


Because He Said So

by Winter_Genisis



Series: Coldgate City [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cliche, Coercion, Fear, Guilt, Hide The Body, Mental Breakdown, Murder, Other, POV Second Person, Psychological, Schizophrenia, but no really the cult is pretty twisted... but they don't do much here, just sayin, mentions of a weird ass cult, mobsters run this city
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 06:23:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2721998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winter_Genisis/pseuds/Winter_Genisis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A man nearly loses his fight for sanity. To his best friend's horror, this man is forced by both outward and inward coercion to join a cult to take up his rightful place as a servant of evil. (So okay here's the thing: if blood or psychological stuff bothers you, please don't read this, okay?) The epilogue isn't all that scary, it just sets up the series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because He Said So

_September 10th, 2110 PND*_

* * *

 

You can’t shake it with drugs this time. This time, the voice is an ever present, persistent force in your daily struggle for survival. From the moment you open your eyes and drag your heavy body out of bed, to the very moment that you collapse, close your eyes and breathe your last at the end of the day – it’s there.

Right here, with you. Right now. Not going anywhere.

This girl who’s been staying with you, your current roommate… She’s an old friend. You care deeply for her, and have staved off the urges enough to be able to spare her. But others were not so lucky.

Rather humorous in my opinion.

But… _no_ … You do bad things… You don’t want to, but the voice makes you… But _no_! You would never, not to _her._

You recently ran out of pot.

That’s not what’s triggering your psychotic breakdown (you giggle, is that what this is?) – at least, you don’t think so – but there are things… Other things.

The lights along the high way flash brightly and dim low as you pass each one. It’s disconcerting.

You haven’t been able to shake this feeling. The voice tells you things (This voice is saying you’ll be fine. I think you’ll be fine.), but you got your gut feeling to go with too, after all. Your gut is telling you things right now. Horrible, terrible things. Like something inside you is broken and no one can fix it, you will forever be on the Outside, unable to ever get back to where you once were, where you should be. The Inside, where people like your best bro and people like _her_ are. You won’t be able to get back there anymore. Your gut tells you that this same thing that you got going – this _thing_ that threw you Outside – splits other people wide open, and they fall into this deep dark abyss.

Just like you did, those many years ago.

* * *

When you break the door to your apartment down though, the blood isn’t on your hands… this time. It’s _really_ not your fault.

At first, you just stare. Because you don’t know. Your mind, it’s blank.

Then, the _terror_ , but it’s covered up too quickly for you to register your fear properly. If you panicked, that would be rather troublesome.

You poor, poor thing. Your free will has been corrupted, hasn’t it?

Oh well.                                                                                                        

A strange, pained laughter bubbles up within you, and you feel joyful and sorrowful and terrified all at once.

You stroll slowly into the kitchen. Well, you might as well finish the job. At least, that’s what the voice tells you to do. So you do.

You’re angry, wondering who started the job in the first place.

You fool. There is no time for anger. Not now. The cops are bound to come soon. This place is a mess. Don’t you want to clean up before they arrive? Of course you do. Now go on. Get going, you imbecile.

But you never knew how hard it would be to chop somebody’s limbs off. You have to keep hacking and sawing to get all the way through, and you hate to have to do it like this because this was a very nice knife. You feel like you might be ruining it.

You’re suddenly reminded of the first time that you ever caught a fish, and tried to chop its head off. That knife was terrible to begin with.

It is rather dark in here, you suddenly notice. You never turned on the light. Oops.

You carefully gather all of the limbs to one side, and gently pick up the dripping head. She looks at you with blank eyes.

“Why… aren’t you smiling?” You ask, confused as to why she hasn’t said a word to you since you got home.

“Hey…” You try again. You kiss her lovely, painted lips oh so carefully. How grotesque of you. But you pay no heed. While once you may have had one foot on the Inside and one foot on the Outside, you will now forever be on the Outside looking In. “Please say hi to me… I love you, you know that, right? I’m sorry I never told you…”

The voice is telling you to hide the body. It’s telling you to leave and kill everyone. Especially those like you. Those Outside.

You don’t really understand.

You try to understand.

But you can’t. You only want revenge. But… you don’t know how to get it. So you become frustrated. Suddenly, killing everyone on the Outside sounds like a brilliant idea. You’re excited. You look forward to it.

It takes you a few trips, but the whole body with the exception of the head is now folded up carefully and neatly in the refrigerator. Of course you had to take out the food. But you just left all of that on the floor. It’s not like you’re cleaning up after a murder, right? You didn’t kill her.

It wasn’t you. It was somebody else.

It tells you again to go and kill everyone.

You start laughing again, because oh man, if that’s not the funniest shit you ever heard. It’s just so horribly cliché!

No… no. You need a better reason. You’re not stupid. You might be on the Outside now, but that doesn’t make you stupid…

You’re just… having a hard time trying to figure out what’s going on, and why you are still so terrified. You can hear sirens in the distance. You close your eyes.

But it wants you to kill.

You don’t understand. You don’t understand!

You don’t want to… You really don’t like doing bad things…

Pathetic… Weak… Miserable piece of shit.

You sink down against the kitchen counter, your knees suddenly unbearably weak. You laugh. You think you’re crying but you’re not really sure since you’re laughing so hard.

The word “hysterical” flits briefly across your mind but it’s gone as quickly as it comes.

Your hands are rigid and sticky and the smell of your stiff, damp clothing is starting to make you feel nauseous. You thought blood was supposed to smell like iron. But it doesn’t. It just smells bitter and sharp and stale. Maybe it smelled like iron a while ago, when it was fresher…

It does taste like iron, though.

You wish with sudden vehemence that she would stop _staring_ like that, and wrap her arms around you instead… At least touch you…

Shit, that’s right. Her arms are in the fridge.

* * *

**PND = post-nuclear destruction**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the character of Gamzee Makara, during the murderstuck arc of Homestuck. Copyright Andrew Hussie.


End file.
